How to Change Your Life in Just Nine Days
by xxJust Robinxx
Summary: Bella's starting over after leaving her husband for a series of unfortunate events. She stumbles into a life of spies and pies when she goes to work for the awkwardly handsome and terribly misguided Edward Cullen. Based upon friend prompts from FB post. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

It's been over a year since I've written anything (besides fb posts and emails)—398 days to be exact. So, I enlisted help from my Facebook friends.

The deal: I'll write a chapter (minimum 1000 words) for every prompt I get. You can leave a prompt in a review. Your prompt can be 1 word, or an idea.

Title: How to Change Your Life in Just Nine Days

Genre: humor/Spy

Characters: Edward (duh) Bella (Duh) et al.

Chapter length: minimum 1000k

* * *

Prompts (will be updated with new prompts as they are added):

Dolly Reader: Jewels and Spies

Rhiannon St. Clair: Bonnie and Clyde;

Erin Pleimann: Pork butts;

Shell Taylor: Doughnut maker;

Ladyeire: kilt;

Post apoplectic:The stretches of these rain-soaked roads are lonely, and I wish I had someone to carpool with and, crap, I really should have remembered to get new wiper blades. What's that ahead? It has some reflective markings. looks like a . . . backpack on the side of the road. Damn, I need to update my eyeglass prescription. Holy shit! It's a guy. And he's . . . bleeding? . . . Bleeding!*;

Shahula Fics: Maybe making out for a few minutes would help us figure things out;

De Perry: standing stones

* * *

New Prompts - - Anyone... Anyone...


	2. Starting a new

It's not edited … you'll be all right.

Prompt by Bel Moctezuma- thanks Sis.

1.

**Starting a new **

It goes without saying, starting over is hard. It's not just _change_ that makes starting over scary. It's that you have to put in a change of address with the Post Office (they charge a dollar for this now-wtf), it's packing boxes, re-registering to vote, and telling co-workers that your status has been altered; it's seeing the pity (that you certainly don't want) when you tell someone, "Hey, I'm single now." All _THOSE_ things play on your psyche. All _THOSE_ things make you second guess your decision. All those _things_ make me realize that after ten years with the same man - the change is worth it.

I'm not going to bore you (or myself) with all the details as to why I'm starting over. Okay, that's a lie-I tend to do that, tell lies when I get nervous-I thought I'd found the man I wanted to spend my life with. It was easy, comfortable and he paid the bills… until he didn't. Don't judge me. We all want to be taken care of- have a man who swoops in and enables us to live a life of leisure. If you're saying, "Huh uh, not me sister," I say, "Now who's lying." But I digress; this is about why I'm single, not why you're a liar.

I came home on a Tuesday afternoon to all off our…_my_stuff on the lawn. Turns out, we hadn't made a mortgage payment in five months and our house had been sold on the courthouse steps two weeks previous. Did my husband know? Yep, sure did. He even attended said sale, which I might add was held in the middle of the day. How did he attend during a workday, you ask? Easy, he'd been fired from his job six, _SIX_ months prior and hadn't bothered to tell me. Needless to say, his dishonesty was a knife in the back. I can stand a lot of things, but seriously, he knew this was happening. The lazy asshole could have at least arranged for a moving truck on the **day we got evicted from our house! **Luckily, I know a guy who knows a guy and was able to get some help ASAP. The neighbors were literally circling, waiting for me to turn my back so they could steal the big screen plasma and the Xbox gaming system (I may have given the Xbox to the neighbor kids my Ex hates, for spite). Of course, when I confront said lazy a-hole about all this he gave me this whiney response: "Baby, I was afraid you'd leave me if you knew the truth."

True. Facts.

I'm glad I was able to grant him a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I'll admit I'm still a bit angry, and I definitely believe it's warranted, Hell_ hath no fury like a woman scored_. I'm living back home with my parents and two U-Store containers with my entire life stuffed inside. I think I'm allowed to be upset for at least a few months. Don't get me wrong, my life has been ok since the split. I have a place to stay, and food on the table. I even get along with my parents (they are old, so they forget that I'm a bitch sometimes), so trust me when I say I'm not complaining. But after ten years of getting ManiPedi's, lunching with the Ladies, and volunteering at the animal shelter, I didn't have many marketable job skills (although Paris Hilton and Kim **Kardashian** managed to make a career of it…) to fall back on. Now, I have to get a job and take care of my own nails. It's a hard-knocks life.

I've never had to look for a job, so when an online friend told me to check out Craigslist, a red flag should have gone up in my head. When I found a listing wanting a receptionist, no experience necessary, I should have thought it odd—but I didn't—and you know what they say about turning back time and hindsight.

The day I stumbled in to that dingy office, (yes, literally; the carpet was pulling away from the floor and I tripped on a roll and fell through the door) I knew something wasn't right.

Everything looked yellow, at least how it would look if it were being filmed with a yellow lens. The old sun-stained vinyl curtains on a roller did nothing to help; they just cast a muted brown hue across the room covered in years of cigarette smog.

"Hello?" I shouted after taking in the room. I really should have just turned around and walked out, but I didn't. _Le sigh_.

"Is anyone here?" _Not if they were smart_ I thought to myself.

"Oh, Miss Swan!" I turned, seeing an unkempt man in the doorway, holding what appeared to be a coffee maker made in 1980, and a shirt half covered in a brown stain. "You're here for the receptionist position?"

"Yeah," I stuttered out, still unsure about the train wreck of a man in front of me.

"Good! I'm Edward Cullen, and welcome to Spies and Pies."

* * *

The deal: I'll write a chapter for every prompt I get. Your prompt can be 1 word, or an idea. **Prompts are still open!**

Chapter length: minimum 1000k

Prompts (will be updated with new prompts as they are added):

Reviews are always appreciated!


	3. I was at a Spy movie

It's still not edited … you'll still be all right.

But I'll explain: part of what has me locked up for writing is it takes me an inordinate amount of time to complete anything bc I edit myself. Literally. So, I decided to do this to teach myself that mistakes don't have to be corrected right away...even though I know there an "OFF" that should be an "of" and 3 extra commas, as well as a couple tense issues in the first chapter.

Also, thanks for those concerned about my shit being on the front lawn—and for the reviews. They let me know you are reading and that you care, and I really love that!

* * *

Prompt: **I was at a spy movie** courtesy of Born on Halloween

2.

The hell?

"Spies and Pies! Who the fuck names their business Spies and Pies?"

Okay, not the best introduction, but I was kinda pissed I'd gotten up early and put on make-up to come here.

"Look, Mr. Cullen, I'm sorry I wasted your time, but I'm definitely not interested…" I paused, motioning across the room, "…in this." It wasn't a coincidence that my arm action ended on the disheveled man in front of me.

"Oh, I see. Well, I'm sorry I wasted your time. It's too bad, really. We could have been something great together." With an ending sigh, he turned away from me and proceeded into his office where he aggressively set down the coffee maker. I was slightly curious as to how he knew we'd be great together. For all he knew I was a heinous shrew. Maybe he liked women with slightly askew eyeliner.

As I walked back to the elevator, I reminded myself to look at the elevator inspection date before descending to the ground floor. Given the state of the building and office I'd seen so far, the elevator was highly suspect. I'd definitely take the stairs. It was this hesitation that delayed my exit and gave opportunity to the coffee stained lunatic who ran down the hall to catch up to me.

"No! You know what? You don't get to walk out of here without hearing what I have to offer." Thankfully, I was still several feet away, because there was spittle when he spat his argument at me.

"You stay there and listen," he said without spitting, a look of pure determination on his face. I felt it was the least I could do, literally.

"I've worked hard to get here, and _you _people just come in here and judge me and my business without even giving me a chance…"

There was more rambling, something about having compassion for others and his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, but I admit I checked out-I couldn't help it. His eyebrows were all over the place with all his eye squinting and frowning. It looked like fuzzy brown caterpillars were dueling across his forehead. But as he stood there yelling at me, I stared blankly wondering just how in the hell someone ended up in a defunct brick office building, stained Oxford and looking for a receptionist, was wearing a Chopard Mille Miglia Steel Silver Chronograph watch. Yeah, I knew a nice watch when I saw one-former Lady of leisure, remember.

"How on earth did you end up here?" I blurted. I couldn't help it, the suspense was killing me. "Spies and pies?" I reiterated my earlier question. It was a pretty big hurdle to get over in my opinion.

"Miss Swan was it? Maybe we could not get coffee and talk." He looked down at the half of his shirt that was covered in a brown stain to emphasize his displeasure with coffee.

What did I have to lose? It wasn't like I was missing The View or anything (because no one _really_ likes The View). The reality was my father hogged the TV to watch The Price is Right in the morning, so driving to a shady neighborhood and _not_ having coffee with a pretty okay looking man wasn't the worst way I could spend a couple hours.

"Sure."

Xx

"I'm sorry I came on so strong back there, Ms. Swan. I shouldn't have yelled… or spit on you." I _knew_ he knew he spit on me. "Oh, watch out as we pass this alleyway." He halted me with his hand to wait while he looked between the buildings. "What? Will a crazy bum try and shank us?" I asked. "No, it's a popular spot for hookers to give blowjobs. Just didn't want to surprise you on your first day with a john with his dong out."

I started to correct him that this wasn't my first day - it was my only, but he motioned me past the alley entrance. "All clear." I couldn't think of a witty response, so I went with a socially acceptable thank you instead. I mean, he was clearly protecting my delicate sensibilities (yeah, I snorted when I said that, too).

"Do you have any questions for me about Spies and Pies?" He was kidding, right. Where would I start? Given the unorthodox meeting thus far, I figured there was no time for status quo.

"When did you decide you wanted to be a spy?"

"No one has ever asked me that before. Even my own family laughed at me and said I was a clueless idiot. But you know, I could tell-you're different, Ms. Swan-"

"Bella," I added.

"You're different, Bella. It was five years ago, and I left work in the middle of the day. I just couldn't stand another minute in the ivory Cullen Tower, so I wandered around and found myself at the Uptown Theater. I bought a ticket and some popcorn. It wasn't until the opening credits that I realized **I was at a spy movie**. I just told the clerk a ticket to whatever was starting next. I found myself enthralled with the action, intrigue, mystery… and the beautiful women the lead character seemed to attract. That's what I wanted. Not some boring desk job mulling over quarterly reports and waiting for my mother to set me up with some WASP from the Country Club."

Despite his stereotypical understanding of what a spy was, I had to admire his tenacity. He had the way paved for him, with bricks of gold, apparently. I hadn't made the connection between his last name and the largest investment-banking firm in the city, Cullen Endeavor Group.

"So you quit your job at CEG? Just like that?" I admit I was a bit in awe.

"Yes. I marched right up to the top floor, to my father's office and told him I was resigning to become a spy. He laughed in my face and told me to stop fucking off."

I can't say I was really surprised, I mean who would indulge their child with dreams of being a spy, but I decided to let it go for a gentler response. "He brushed you off that easily?"

"What's worse is I asked him to help me finance my spy business and he told me absolutely not. He actually accused me of using drugs. So, I was forced to go to the bank a get a loan." I couldn't decide if Mr. Cullen was delusional or not, so I decided it was in my best interest to keep digging.

"So you went to the bank and asked them for a loan so you could start a spy business?"

"Well, that's what I _intended_ to get the loan for. Turns out the lady who helped me with the paperwork was hard of hearing, and she thought I was saying a **PIE** business. Not a **SPY** business. When I went back to the bank to bring it to their attention, the manager said, "Well, of course she misunderstood, son. Who would really want a small business loan to be a spy?"

I couldn't help it. A laugh escaped.

"Trust me, I know how ridiculous it sounds. So there I was with a small business loan for a pie business, and no dough." He cracked a smile letting me know the pun was intended. "So, I decided that I was going to make lemonade out of my lemons. My grandmother had been a wonderful baker, so I threw all my time and energy into baking. I did pretty well, too. So well in fact, I had to find a place to expand."

It was starting to make sense. The bottom floor of the building appeared to be suitable for a store front. Mr. Cullen nodded his head as he watched me catch up. "And when I found that building, it had everything I was looking for. A storefront for selling pies, a space that could be converted to a kitchen and office space upstairs for me to…well, become a spy."

It was official, Edward Cullen was delusional, but I decided then it was in the most delicious way.

* * *

Oh- Dios Mios. Edward.

The deal: I'll write a chapter for every prompt I get. Your prompt can be 1 word, or an idea. **Prompts are still open!**

Chapter length: minimum 1000k

Prompts (will be updated with new prompts as they are added):

Used: Starting a new ; I was at a spy movie;

The silver stallion; Tourette syndrome; Bonnie and Clyde; southern feel; Pork butts, Doughnut maker; kilt; doughnuts for breakfast; The stretches of these rain-soaked roads*; Maybe making out for a few minutes would help us figure things out; standing stones


	4. Rain

3.

**Prompt: Rain by Mrs. Lori Jacobs **(God bless her for needling me into getting this back on track and updated.)

It was starting to make sense. The bottom floor of the building appeared to be suitable for a storefront. Mr. Cullen nodded his head as he watched me catch up. "And when I found that building, it had everything I was looking for. A storefront for selling pies, a space that could be converted to a kitchen and office space upstairs for me to…well, become a spy."

It was official, Edward Cullen was delusional, but I decided then it was in the most delicious way.

Xx

After I accepted the receptionist position—because let's face it, the offers for a skill-less woman weren't piling in—I spent some time talking with Edward. (Yes, that's right—I call him Edward, per his request). He said that every time I called him Mr. Cullen, I reminded him of his father. He told me about his family and growing up sheltered under his father's thumb. I actually felt sorry for the guy. He'd never been trusted to make his own decisions, right down to what he'd wear every day. His _nanny _picked out his clothes until the day he moved out of the family home five years ago. I had to take a few moments to let that all sink in… to have never been in charge of oneself… it was difficult to imagine, but also made a hell of a lot more sense that Edward thought he was some spy-pie whisperer.

The thing about all this is that I actually admire the hell out of the guy. I mean, he may be a bit on the _strange_ side, but who the fuck cares, right? So he sells pies and has a poster of Sean Connery in his office. So what if he does that thing where he mock shoots you with his thumb and forefinger. And does it really matter that he came to work this morning wearing a trench coat and a fedora? Humphrey Bogart did it, and everyone thought he was the cat's meow. Truth is it was a Burberry Trench and a Borsalino hat. Edward may be a little unstable, but the man had taste. It was a dreary morning, and looked like it may **rain**, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt that his stereotypical "spy" wear was more about the weather and less about looking like Dick Tracy.

Xx

August 25, 2014 Day 1: Schedule—

1. Get Edward to change the name of business.

2. Ask Edward if there is a budget to redecorate the office.

* * *

Over the weekend, I'd gotten down to business on researching both "spying" and "pieing" (it's not a word, I'm aware). It seemed like Edward had a handle on the whole baking thing, so I was going to expend my energy on the spying part. After looking through several sites and collecting a ridiculous amount of information, that, let's be honest—was ambiguous at best—I gathered that Edward would have to settle for being a private investigator. Being a "Spy" (who prefer the politically correct term Espionage agents) is typically illegal and frowned upon. And since Edward had agreed to pay me a rather respectable wage, I really was looking forward to the success of the business. Of course, I shared all the intell I'd gathered with him, not wanting him to think I was already stealing his thunder. He was excited that I was eager and agreed I'd posed good questions. He'd said he was all about transparency with his employees and wanted to discuss our weekend communications on Monday. So, I had to laugh when my first official email popped up at 9:15 this morning. I'd assumed I was the only employee he held at the moment…

* * *

**From:** Cullen, Edward  
**Sent:** Monday, August 25, 2014 09:15 AM  
**To:** Isabella Swan  
**Cc:**  
**Subject:** Monday Morning Meeting

Bella—

Good morning and welcome. We are pleased to have you on board as we start this exciting new venture. We will convene in the conference room at 09:30 AM for our first official staff meeting.

Thanks, and make it a great day!

-Edward Cullen

Master Baker, Personal Spy service

Office: (555) 595-5329

Cell: (555)977-8745

Fax: (555) 595-5330

* * *

August 25, 2014 Day 1: Schedule (REVISED)—

1. Attend "Staff" meeting

2. Ask Edward who the other "staff" is.

3. Get Edward to change the name of business.

4. Have Edward change his email signature.

5. Ask Edward if there is a budget to redecorate the office.

Xx

Turns out, there is no other staff. Edward bought a new table over the weekend for the conference room and wanted to make sure I liked it. The meeting wasn't a total waste, though. After talking at length about Edward's business plan, we came to the conclusion that he needed two separate entities: one for the pies (Pies Among Us), and one for… the other business. We'd yet to agree on a new name or terminology for the non-baking related profession. So far, the nominees were **_Private Spies, The Covert Agency,_** and **Cullen Intelligence and Securities** (bet you'll never guess which suggestion was mine). While I admitted quickly to Edward that I knew I didn't have business savvy, I was also a consumer and knew what may or may not appeal to the masses. I may have mentioned that clients weren't likely to take us seriously if our name was similar to something that appeared in a Hardy Boys novel.

**From:** Cullen, Edward  
**Sent:** Monday, August 25, 2014 12:15 PM  
**To:** Isabella Swan  
**Cc:**  
**Subject:** Monday Lunch Meeting

Bella—

After having some time to reflect, I agree that **Cullen Intelligence and Securities **is the best option for the business name. Please ensure that all letterhead is updated to reflect this most recent change. I would also like to have a working lunch, so please confirm that you will accompany me today at 12:30 PM. There's a Greek Bistro three blocks up. I hope that meets with your approval. I'll buy.

Thanks, and make it a great day!

-Edward Cullen, CEO.

Pies Among Us &Cullen Intelligence and Securities

Office: (555) 595-5329

Cell: (555)977-8745

Fax: (555) 595-5330


	5. The Silver Stallion

4. Prompt by Thaigher Lillie- The Silver Stallion

August 26, 2014 Day 2: Schedule—

1. Ask Edward if there is a budget to redecorate the office.

2. Type up proposal for advertising.

3. Hint to Edward I'd very much enjoyed spending lunch with him yesterday and hope he asks me again today.

* * *

**From:** Isabella Swan  
**Sent:** Tuesday, August 26, 2014 11:06 AM  
**To:** Edward Cullen  
**Cc:**  
**Subject:** Office waiting area

Edward—

With the excitement and prospect of looking for new clients yesterday, I forgot to ask you about a budget for updating the office/reception area a bit. I'd like to have a comfortable area that we may welcome our clients, minus fly traps and dingy window coverings :)

Please let me know the parameters of this task at your earliest convenience.

I very much enjoyed having lunch with you yesterday and hope that we may have additional opportunities for lunch meetings.

-Bella Swan, Office Administrator

_Pies Among Us & Cullen Intelligence and Securities _

Office: (555) 595-5329

Fax: (555) 595-5330

Xx

Edward had yet to surface this morning from his office, so I wasn't sure what our current footing was. When we left yesterday, everything seemed great. We had a friendly, yet productive lunch, and then an afternoon filled with brainstorming regarding reaching out to the community to promote both businesses. I even felt like we'd settled in with a comradery that was professional, yet laid back. I'd even thought that I could call Edward _friend_, so it was a bit of a surprise when he'd taken measures to avoid me thus far, today. He didn't come out for morning coffee, and had waited until I went to the restroom to retrieve his messages and mail. My hope was that by reaching out via email, I could coax him out of his office and into the easy going character I'd gotten to know over the last few days.

It was only a few minutes later that my spirits momentarily lifted when Edward's door opened and he stepped out, coat buttoned, hat in hand.

"Bella, I will be out the rest of the afternoon. I will see you tomorrow." His tone was flat and there was no eye contact as he walked toward the door. I'd begun to wonder if perhaps Edward thought he'd made a mistake by hiring me. "Oh, and there's a thousand dollars in petty cash for office upkeep. Use whatever you need to make this area presentable," he mumbled. With those parting words, he closed the door behind him.

My guess was that we weren't going to try the Indian restaurant for lunch today.

Xx

"What's wrong, Bella Bird?" My mother asked as I picked at my dinner. I was hesitant to confide in her. I wanted to be a grown-up and deal with my own problems for a change, not complain so that someone would swoop in and fix everything.

"It's just work."

"How is your new boss? Is he mean?"

"No, my new boss is great. He's just hard to read sometimes is all." It was the truth. I'd thought that Edward and I had become friends, but clearly after the cold reception he gave me today, I'd misinterpreted things. It was a little more disappointing than it should have been. I'd known the guy for less than a week, so it shouldn't have been so upsetting that he was giving me the cold shoulder. Plus, my ex was the master of the cold shoulder, so I certainly should have been used to it by now. Edward seemed different though, and I'd wondered more than once if there wasn't a mutual attraction blooming between us. I tapped it down so far because it seemed too soon after my separation to be looking for a relationship, but realistically, I'd checked out of my last relationship emotionally long before I ever did it physically.

As I lay in bed that night, I couldn't help but replay all my interactions with Edward. I even wondered if I should start calling him Mr. Cullen again. Maybe he would see that he was driving a wedge between us. He'd even said that Mr. Cullen was his cold and distant father, so perhaps he just needed a little reminder. I knew there was a good guy in there—he'd just forgotten to come out today. I wasn't ready to give up on Edward yet.

* * *

**From:** Cullen, Edward  
**Sent:** Wednesday, August 27, 2014 06:26 AM  
**To:** Isabella Swan  
**Cc:**  
**Subject:** Job well done

Bella—

Thank you for sending out the advertisement packages yesterday. We've already received a query from a night club, **The Silver Stallion**. I am meeting with them today, so I will not be in the office again but will be checking my email via mobile. Please contact me if you have a problem that cannot wait until tomorrow.

Thanks, and make it a great day!

-Edward Cullen, CEO.

_Pies Among Us & Cullen Intelligence and Securities_

Office: (555) 595-5329

Cell: (555)977-8745

Fax: (555) 595-5330

* * *

I guess that answered my question as to whether or not Edward was done giving me the cold shoulder.


	6. Tourette Syndrome

5.

Prompt by StaceLeo: Tourette Syndrome

I wasn't sure how to even approach Bella regarding her soon to be ex-husband. I hardly knew her, but after just three days, I was already in a world of hurt. I'd convinced myself that I could handle this and I wouldn't need to involve her; I was starting a career in Investigation; (Bella insisted I refer to myself as a 'Securities Officer' but I thought it sounded pretentious. We eventually agreed on 'Private Investigator'. She said 'Spy' made her think of the Hardy Boys—she had a point) I should be able to handle a disgruntled ex. But what Bella failed to mention was that her ex had ties to some rather shady characters (a gym membership, which he used six days a week), and had a lot of power and influence.

So I did what any upstanding, courageous P.I. would do… I hid.

Apparently, he'd been following Bella and had seen us going to lunch. Because we were having a good time, he assumed it was a date. The overgrown douche showed up at my house that night to give me a tip: "Leave my wife alone or I will have you buried under six feet of concrete." I'd stare at him, mouth hanging open unsure of what to even say. I'd like to say that I laughed, called him an emasculating name, then slammed the door in his face. Yeah, no. I may have peed myself a little—he was pretty big— broke our eye contact, looked at my wingtips, said, "sorry, sir," and closed the door quietly.

I'd never been threatened before and didn't know what to do, so I did what most men without gym memberships did: I panicked. No need to tell me what a pussy I am, as I'm all too aware, but I had to be careful. I would need to be smart about how to take care of this. I was all prepared to man-up this morning and call in a few of my own favors... until I went to get in my car, which was parked on the street, front windshield completely missing, and the roof caved in. There was a note on the steering wheel: Next time… your face.

Okay then, I've been told I'm a fast learner.

So I sent her an email instead, and avoided her like the plague. I needed to buy myself some time to think about things. Luck finally played on my side when the owner of a night club a few blocks over called the previous evening and said he had someone spray-painting homophobic slurs on the side of his building, needing me to investigate. It wasn't a difficult job, probably just a night or two of recon and some pictures, but it was our first paying gig; there's no job too small.

After a quick Google search, I'd gathered that The Silver Stallion was a gay club, (can I say that, still? I'm not sure if it's PC? Maybe 'alternative lifestyle participants gathering place'?) and was owned by Emmett McCarty and Earl Healios. I was set to meet them at eleven to go over some historical information, and to set terms and pricing. I was also pretty eager to meet another business in the neighborhood and get our networking list started.

I spent much of the morning thinking about Bella and how I was going to deal with her apparently steroid enraged ex. I was going to have to use brains over brawn in order to come out on top. Women loved men who flexed their muscles and used overt neanderthal gestures to win them back. And since I didn't posses a lot of muscles and more than a few generations removed from a cave man, I was going to have to think this through and come up with a smart plan. It had been quite some time since I'd been taken with a woman, and I wasn't prepared to give up just yet. Sure, it would have been super easy to just walk right into the office and demand, "Miss Swan, you're fired. Get your shit and get out!" But I think we all know I just don't have it in me.

I knew I'd have to tell her the truth, about her ex-husband and how I was feeling about her, and I'd even plotted out much of my speech. I know I couldn't wing it— I could definitely see Bella thinking I was diagnosed with Tourette's Syndrome, stuttering, blinking uncontrollably, and letting the occasional inappropriately placed curse word slip out. I got nervous when I talked to women, but telling a beautiful, newly divorced woman that I liked her—especially one I'd only known for a week—that was enough to give any guy a syndrome.

After I'd worked a a good start of bullet points for my confession to Bella, I decided to head over to The Silver Stallion and get our first official job underway. I walked with drive and purpose in my step knowing that today was going to be full of change, both personally and professionally; I was ready.

xx

I walked the perimeter of the building noting the graffiti recently sprayed on the side of the building. It appeared to be amateurish and my first assertion was to look to a juvenile crowd. I wasn't going to overlook a pool of suspects outside of the teen scene, but it certainly would be at the top of my list of interested parties.

I stood in front of the red double doors at 10:45 wondering if I was fashionably early or rudely premature. After a moment, I decided on the optimistic: fashionably early. I hadn't stepped inside for more than a few moments letting my eyes adjust to the stark contrast from daylight to bar-light when a large statuesque blonde akin to Jessica Rabbit addressed me with a sultry, "Well, _hel-lo_ there, Sugar-Bugar."

* * *

Oh, goodness. Edward really appears to be stuck in a Dick Tracey comic book- huh?

The deal: I'll write a chapter for every prompt I get. Your prompt can be 1 word, or an idea. **Prompts are still open!**

Chapter length: minimum 1000

Prompts (will be updated with new prompts as they are added):

Prompts used:

Starting a new ; I was at a spy movie; Rain; The Silver Stallion; Tourette Syndrome

Prompts left:

Bonnie and Clyde; southern feel; Pork butts, Doughnut maker; kilt; doughnuts for breakfast; The stretches of these rain-soaked roads*; Maybe making out for a few minutes would help us figure things out; standing stones.

Join us, you know you wanna!


End file.
